Page 54

THEO

What I really wanted was to go home to my parents’ house.

With Maya hitting the brakes and the game against Point Brook looming—along with all of the talk about what was to come when I went pro, since no one doubted I would make it—I needed a second to breathe.

I didn’t really get overwhelmed, but there were more interpersonal and professional things going on in my life than I’d ever had at once.

Basketball itself never felt overwhelming to me.

I would get nervous about games, and I was a little nervous that Cam Kerr and the rest of the Point Brook girls would be able to come out on top.

I could be as good as physically possible, but that didn’t mean we’d win.

If their defense was strong, if their offense had a better shooting percentage than ours, it could all be over so quickly.

But I was never nervous about my own playing. Just like I was never worried about having to go on the court and play.

Dealing with girl drama, however, was new to me and made a lot of the other major changes in my life feel much bigger than they would otherwise…mostly because I’d already been slotting Maya into what my future would lo ok like.

I’d pictured her helping me move my things in at a new apartment and courtside at my games. I could easily imagine her taking her classes and teaching and then coming home to me during the offseason.

I knew I’d survive without her. A year ago, I’d envisioned going pro without anyone by my side.

I’d have my parents to help me move and settle and friends to cheer me on.

And that was that. I thought maybe I’d meet someone when I was already pro, probably someone in my general social circle, like a friend of a teammate’s partner.

But now, the thought of doing all of that without Maya felt like I was missing something. It wouldn’t make it any less special, but it sure as hell wasn’t what I wanted.

There hadn’t really been a formal conclusion to our conversation, but something about it had felt really final. I couldn’t help but think that Maya had pretty much made up her mind, and that was why it was so hard for her to just say it.

But I also couldn’t help but hold onto the hope that Maya really did want to make it work. She was just scared to.

I was just glad she’d at least come around to talking to me about what she was thinking and feeling. I’d really been worried she wasn’t going to say anything at all, and she’d slowly fade out of my life, leaving both of us wondering what could’ve happened if we’d tried harder or talked more.

Maya and I had still been keeping in touch, and she promised she’d still watch my game. The high of having the girl of my dreams tell me that she loved me kept getting swirled around with the fear that I could lose her.

The game at the university, about an hour from my parents’ house, felt like it came at the perfect time.

The only issue was that it was impossible to make going to see them work with my schedule.

I’d never craved the comfort of my basketball hoop in the backyard more.

I wanted to sleep under the comforter I’d slept under all throughout high school and smell the familiar, impossible-to-describe scent of home.

I’d never felt so homesick. The entire flight to Michigan, all I could think about was how the second the season was done and I could get even a second to myself, I was going to fly back to see my parents at their house, instead of making them rent out a room in a hotel.

When it was game time, I was able to push it all to the side and get through playing without an issue just like always. If anything, I played harder than ever, grateful for an outlet for whatever feelings were going on inside of me.

When we won, we took a brief moment to celebrate—along with the acceptance that Point Brook was coming up when we got back home.

Adrenaline was high from the win. With our record, we were admittedly feeling pretty invincible.

Our team had never been so good, not when I was playing there and never before in the history of the program.

It really meant something. And it gave us hope that we wouldn’t be crushed by a women’s college basketball superpower in the tournament .

“Good game, Theo,” Coach Darlene said after the game. “Insane play in the third quarter,” she said. “Point Brook is shaking in their boots.”

“Thanks, Coach,” I said.

It occurred to me how much I was going to miss her when I graduated. She’d become a second mother or an aunt to me—a coach who really listened and cared and believed in me, even if she could be tough on us sometimes. “Go give your parents a hug. I know you miss them,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, sweetie,” she said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. She looked at me for a moment like a proud mom; it seemed like both of us were realizing the end of the season was quickly approaching, meaning our time together was almost up.

I walked over to my parents, who were sitting courtside. They were looking around, waiting for me. When I walked over, they both stood up and enveloped me in a hug.

“You’re so sweaty,” Mom said as she stepped back. She half-grimaced, half-smiled.

“I don’t know why that could be,” I said.

“How are you feeling, sweetie? Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” I admitted.

“Come find us when you’re back at the hotel?”

“Of course,” I said and hugged both of them again. Even though I was sweaty and I could feel both of them partially hovering so I wouldn’t get sweat all over them, I was happy to see them.

“See you soon, kid,” Dad said and gently shook me by the shoulder before I ran off to meet up with my team.

After dinner with my parents, I went back up to their room for a little bit. The rest of the team was enjoying their free time before curfew, and I was sad to be missing it, but this was exactly where I wanted to be right now.

“I don’t know if I like the hardwood they chose,” Mom said. She was propped up in bed, the remote next to her. Dad was sitting in a chair across the room, doing something on his phone with his reading glasses on.

“I agree,” I said as the home renovation show we were watching played out on screen. It was a little taste of home—something that made it possible for me to almost pretend that I was back.

In a way, just being in this part of Michigan brought back a lot of feelings and nostalgia for me.

This was the university my parents took me to growing up.

I saw so many basketball games here as a kid, spent so much time hoping that I’d be good enough to play for them.

And then after a certain point, I realized I could aim to be even better than that.

I could be part of a team that won championships, a team that fostered talent that played in the Olympics and went on to play professionally.

Even though this wasn’t the school for me going into adulthood, it was the school that had inspired me initially to stick with playing .

“Their bathroom looks like the bathroom your dad and I had in our first house,” Mom said. “I can’t believe that style is coming back around.”

“It’s cute,” I said.

The episode passed just like that. Mom would make a small comment, I’d respond with something back. Dad would offer up the occasional grunt or, Oh, yeah, that is nice when he looked up at the TV.

It didn’t seem like much and it was probably not the most exciting parent visit anyone had ever done, but it felt like home to me.

Being on the road so often meant that I had to get creative with finding routine and structure.

I liked having GJ as my roommate and I liked that I packed basically the same thing for every single away game.

Whenever I saw my parents, it was usually something similar to this—dinner and then downtime. I appreciated the familiarity.

Our conversation during dinner had stayed pretty neutral. They mostly asked me about grades and future plans for basketball. Even though I was legally an adult and could sign my own contracts, I still talked to them and got their approval.

I think they were both ready for me to be able to get an agent, though.

We weren’t allowed to have them at the college level, but I didn’t trust myself to agree to anything without at least some adult in my life reviewing documents for me.

My parents had started saying things like, We trust you on what you want to do in the past few months, meaning they didn’t want the pressure anymore.

My contracts kept getting bigger, and the stakes kept getting higher; it was hard for them to keep up.

The expectation was that my career would explode going into playing professionally.

There were a lot of things already being teed up or suggested from brands interested in working with me.

And I had managers constantly reaching out, practically begging me to keep them in mind for the day I was no longer considered a college athlete.

“Alright, I’m getting a vending machine snack,” Dad said and stood up. “You need anything? When are you heading back to your room for curfew?”

“In a little bit,” I said. “I’ll still be here when you get back.”

“Okay.” Dad turned to Mom. “Vending machine?”

“Still full from dinner.”

“You got it.” He got up and left the room.

When the door closed, my mom got up and walked over to me. She slid in the open spot next to me, forcing me over.

“What are you doing?” I asked, laughing.

“I can tell something is up,” she said.

“Nothing is up,” I lied.

“You can’t fool me. You’re my only child, my entire job until you moved out of my house was to be aware of how you were feeling. You’re sneaky and good at hiding your feelings, but you can’t hide them from me.”

“I know, it’s annoying,” I mumbled, and Mom laughed. It was true—she always knew what kind of mood I was in. I didn’t find it particularly funny or helpful when I was a moody sixteen-year-old whose mom refused to leave her alone. But in this moment, it was kind of nice.

She was right about me keeping things close to the chest. Even GJ, who was always on my shit, couldn’t tell I was having a moment.

It was partially because I rarely ever was; anything I was feeling, any frustrations around school or personal life, could be let out on the court and never felt that serious after long enough.

But there were times when I wasn’t completely my normal self. I’d had a brief meltdown after I didn’t get recruited to play at Point Brook, another brief meltdown when I was worried that Lakeside Green was never going to lead to anything. My mom was the one who’d been there for it.

“Is it basketball related? It’s okay to feel overwhelmed by all of the changes coming,” Mom said from next to me on the bed. I laid my head in her lap and she combed her fingers through my hair.

“It’s not basketball,” I admitted, knowing there was no use in lying about it.

It felt better to really talk about it than to keep it to my chest. I hadn’t talked to anyone about everything that was going on with Maya because I didn’t think it was any of their business.

Until a decision had been made—mostly on Maya’s end—there wasn’t anything to say to anyone.

Except for my mom, who could always tell when I was off—even when I did a really good job at hiding it.

Mom was quiet for a moment. I didn’t think there’d ever been a point in my life where I was really upset about something that wasn’t basketball related. I’d had my fair share of schoolyard bickering, friendships that fizzled. But nothing ever meant much compared to basketball.

Until Maya, at least.

“Is this about the girl that your dad and I met?”

I nodded, knowing there was no use in lying.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Mom said. She combed her fingers through my hair. “What happened?”

“I think it’s too much for her,” I said. As soon as I said it, tears threatened to flow. My throat became tight, reality sinking in. That was absolutely what it was. I’d known it; I just hadn’t wanted to admit it. And now that I was saying it out loud, it was impossible to keep pushing down.

“What is? Basketball?”

“All of it. Basketball, dating,” I said, gesturing with my hands. “There’s not enough time.”

“There’s always time, you just have to be thoughtful in finding it,” Mom said, always the optimist. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to pick up the pieces, but it was the first time it was girl related.

As much as I valued my career, losing Maya definitely hurt more.

“I don’t know if it would be enough for her,” I admitted.

“Did you try talking to her about it?” I replayed our conversation in my head, just like I’d been doing for days. I kept wondering what she was thinking, what direction she was leaning. I wouldn’t blame her for not wanting to go down this path.

Inevitably, basketball and my career were going to be a huge part of our relationship. There were going to be a lot of things I was wrapped up in and a lot of busy scheduling-related things that were going to come up. There would be times I wouldn’t be able to be around for her because of work.

But I genuinely did want to try. And I hoped she knew that.

“I did,” I said. “I really did.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” she responded.